Aizen on the Couch
by x nihilo
Summary: After losing the Winter War, Aizen decides the Espada need closure. He enlists the help of an expert.
1. Chapter 1

Morale was low in Hueco Mundo. The Winter War was lost and the regenerated Espada were in sour moods. Aizen couldn't help but notice. It was a dangerous place to be, with ten unhappy, well-armed and lethal-inclined Espada. A pep talk of monumental proportions was in order.

But who to give it?

Aizen sighed. He'd talked 'til he was blue in the face about their renewed efforts to fight down Soul Society, but no one – not even Wonderweiss, who went along with any suggestion programmed into his teensy little mind – was in any better spirits.

And the gods forbid that his Espada carry that attitude with them once they'd regained full power.

Aizen naturally glanced to Halibel sitting far down the long meeting table in the large conference room. She glared back at him. He had a good mind to let her out into the wilds of Hueco Mundo with Nnoitra in hopes that she'd calm down a little.

Then again, Aizen thought, he needed Nnoitra, and given Halibel's issues lately, she'd probably pulverize him into particles even Szayel couldn't find.

"~~~~~...ooo~~~~" Wonderweiss warbled from his stool beside him at the table.

Aizen looked to him – his finest work. What a dud.

But that wasn't what he said aloud.

"Thank you, Wonderweiss," he said, and then looked down the long table at the surely and tolerant faces studying him. "It's come to my attention that some of you are at less than peak processing capacity lately, and I want that rectified before we take on another battle."

Down the table, Nnoitra looked to Starrk. "Rectified. Rectified? That means something's wrong with my ass?"

"Yes," Halibel said curtly.

"While there probably _is_ something wrong with your ass," Starrk said, "that's not what Aizen-sama meant."

Nnoitra nodded. "Oh. Then -"

"It means we have a situation that needs to be corrected," Aizen said dryly, not wanting to discuss the Espada Five's posterior. Wonderweiss slobbered a giggle. Aizen ignored him. "I know most of you are not at full strength right now-"

There was a collective murmur of angst.

"- so I'll excuse rank issues for the moment," he said.

A few groans and sighs escaped eight out of ten Espada.

"I'm bringing in someone to talk to each of you," Aizen continued. "Individually. Each of you needs a mental adjustment; Strength starts with a strong mind, so I want you to talk out any unresolved matters with someone who will listen and not judge."

Ulquiorra sat straighter, alert. "You're bringing back the Woman, Aizen-sama?"

Nnoitra snickered.

Ulquiorra gave him a sharp look.

"No." Aizen looked to each of them, avoiding Halibel, and then glanced back to Ulquiorra. "I've enlisted a specialist. Someone with training in the fields of psychology. These sessions will be confidential. Everyone will be required to go at least once. Some more than others."

Nnoitra glanced to Grimmjow. "Yeah, some of us could use a good talkin' to. Unresolved issues over losin'." He chuckled as Grimmjow gave him a growl. Nnoitra only grinned eerily. "Now _that_ much I remember."

"Me, too?"

The all looked to the doorway behind Aizen where Luppi stood, looking freshly regenerated. Grimmjow muttered something that made Wonderweiss slobber more.

Aizen didn't look at Luppi because that would have required turning his back to Halibel for a split second and he'd been avoiding that lately.

"Yes, Luppi. You, too."

Grimmjow sent the former Sixth Espada a toxic glare.

Aizen stood. No one else did. He cleared his throat. Command was slipping. He rubbed his chest where the point of Gin's sword had left a grain of irritant. It itched.

"You're all expected to cooperate." His gaze settled on Halibel now. "That means you, too."

Nnoitra chuckled.

Halibel shot him a look. "Shut up."

* * *

A million thought-miles away in Seattle, Washington, Dr. Frasier Crane was wrapping up his radio talk show. He sat at his desk in the broadcast booth, smiling smugly as he hovered over the microphone.

"And so it is with a fond farewell for a few weeks that I bid you all good mental health," he said in his best Peabody Award winning voice. "Remember to listen to the show for my brother Dr. Niles Crane, who will be sitting in for me during this absence. Until then, dear listeners, until then, keep your spirits up."

He pushed the end button on his controls console and stripped off his headphones, looking to the window to the producer's booth where the show's amorous producer, Roz Doyle, was watching with less than her usual disinterest.

"That's a wrap," she said into the speaker to him.

"You know, Roz," Frasier said, collecting his papers, "this is the very opportunity my next book needs. Fresh material. Gets me out of Seattle and into a whole new realm of mental health treatment."

Roz rolled her eyes. "You don't even know what you're getting into, Frasier. All this Aizen guy's letter said was that he wants you to treat an assortment of maladies."

He smiled. "Sounds like a caring soul, to me."

Roz found the letter on her desk behind the glass. "'...want my army at peak performance before our next battle ...'" she read. She raised an eyebrow at him. "That's caring?"

"I think it's a military term he uses to rally his troops into fighting their issues," he said, smiling grandly and flicking off his console switches. "Sounds like a very concerned man."

"Or a cult leader."

He spared her a longsuffering look. "Be nice to Niles while I'm gone, Roz."

* * *

All Dr. Frasier Crane – noted radio psychiatrist – recalled of his trip to Hueco Mundo was that he had the severest case of jet lag in flight history. He was met in a Los Noches antechamber by Aizen himself, and Wonderweiss, who wore a heather gray t-shirt over his normal uniform that had the words _I'm listening_ written in black letters.

"You're Dr. Frasier Crane?" Aizen said, not asked. "I see."

Frasier extended a hand, which Aizen just looked at. Frasier retracted the hand.

"I must say I'm honored you chose me to consult with your army," he said with a chuckle, smiling at Wonderweiss. "Although, one must admit, your invitation was quite vague." He looked around at the cavernous walls of the hall. "This is perhaps the largest institution I've ever treated in."

Aizen nodded. "Come with me."

Aizen led the Living psychiatrist down the echoing halls of the less damaged parts of Los Noches. Frasier walked at his side, glimpsing Wonderweiss.

"Is this one of your enrollees?" he asked.

Aizen looked to Wonderweiss, who was busy drooling, mouth agape. "He's the Hyogoku's finest accomplishment."

Some of the smile left Frasier's face. "I see ... Well, we all must begin somewhere."

They walked on for several long moments, Frasier impressed with the austere corridors and immensity of the compound, Aizen silently pleading with himself that the Espada would respond favorably to treatment.

"My, but this place is enormous," Frasier said three corridors later. "You must have some sound funding."

Aizen gave a nod.

"Your ranks – I think that's what you called them in your letter – are they open to counseling?"

Aizen felt the itch grow more intense in his chest. "We have assorted issues to attend, Doctor. Some of my top ranked will be opposed to counseling."

"Well, I've had obstinate patients before," Frasier said, nodding. "A good therapist can bring around the most recalcitrant of natures."

It was what Aizen wanted to hear. Kind of.

"So, you treat primarily ..." Frasier left off speaking as they passed an adjoining hall. Down it Ulquiorra and Yammy – who was much smaller than his steroid self had been during the War – were in discussion. Frasier stopped walking, frowning, trying to see better the Espada in the distant. "Are those the patients? My, but it appears ... you're treating ..." Words failed Frasier, which was a rarity. He looked to Aizen, and then Wonderweiss. "Bone-deformities?"

Aizen let it slide. "You could say that, Doctor. Come with me. I'll show you your quarters."

Frasier continued down the hall with Aizen and Wonderweiss. "I must say it looks like you have some extreme cases here. I understand why you call it a battle."

Wonderweiss drooled more at this. "~~~~...ooo~~~~"

"I see you got the t-shirt merchandising sent." Frasier smiled at him, eyes on the bone mask at the small Arrancar's head. "Brave child."

* * *

**Take the poll: Who needs therapy the most?**


	2. Second Opinion

The hallways of Las Noches hadn't changed much since Gin Ichimaru had been there last. Confusing, twisting corridors that could hide any number of hazards that would split a soul wide open just to see what was inside. Gin didn't miss it at all.

But he missed Luppi, and from what he'd heard through the Hell Butterfly grapevine, the temporary Sixth Espada was resurrected with the rest of the Espada in Aizen's tenuous command. Gin figured a visit was in order.

He grinned as he passed the innards of Las Noches' more casual rooms. He knew Luppi was the Sexta, but no one called him that; something about the word made everyone think of Grimmjow, and Luppi just seemed, well, too slight to fill out the title. So Sixth Luppi was. For a little while, anyway.

Gin frowned at the figure ahead of him in the hall. He didn't recognize the man in drab gray apparel, similar in coat to one he'd worn while under Aizen's influence, unlike the white shinigami captain's coat he wore now. The man was wearing what looked to be Living world dress pants and a sports jacket beneath. But the man himself wasn't familiar. Gin assumed it was the doctor he'd heard of.

"Hey, yer the doctor Aizen brought in for the Espada?" he called.

Frasier looked up from the half dozen dossiers he carried. He turned and smiled grandly at Gin. "Well, hello. I don't think I've met you." He extended a hand as Gin caught up to him. "I'm Dr. Frasier Crane, noted psychiatrist, and yes to your question. And you are?"

Gin looked at the hand, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ya met Luppi yet?"

Frasier retracted his hand and sorted through his files. "No, I haven't had my initial sessions with any of the enrollees yet." He pulled a file to the top. "Luppi, you say. You're familiar with Luppi?"

Gin nodded. "Yep. Real friendly guy, Luppi. One of the few that would talk with me here."

Frasier smiled as Gin led the way down the corridor. "Oh? You're a doctor, too?" He looked to the black robes Gin wore beneath the white coat.

Gin grinned bigger yet. "I was Aizen's right hand man fer most of his command."

"Command?" Frasier chuckled. "Well, the military terminology seems to bring a certain cohesiveness to the place, doesn't it? Rally the troops to the _fight_."

"That's the idea."

Frasier sifted through the files. "So you've met with Luppi. Any of the rest of them?"

Gin chuckled. A Living doctor was too good an opportunity to leave unteased. "Oh, yep, all of 'em at one time or another. Who ya gonna see first, Doc?"

Frasier looked through his list of names Aizen had urgently suggested. "Mr. Aizen – oh, say, how should I address him?" He turned a pensive face to Gin as they walked. "He doesn't seem to be accepting of the term doctor. I've heard _sama_ used and a few other titles from some of the, well, wanderers of the halls, if you will." He chuckled. "Just whispers milling among the shadowy corridors, to put it less prosaic. But I'm not sure of his proper title."

Gin had several suggestions. "Just call him Mr. Aizen. That'll get to him."

"I see."

Gin tried to see better the files Frasier studied as they walked. "Oh, Halibel," he said, nodding at the name at the top of the list the doctor held. "She's a good start."

"Oh?" Frasier nodded. "You've spoken with her?"

Gin grinned. His last memory of Halibel had been at the end of Aizen's sword in the fake Karakura Town. "Yep. She'll be an angry one."

"I know you can't violate doctor-patient privileges, but was there anything in her nature I should know?" Frasier shrugged, studying the taller man thoroughly. "Anything helpful that I could use to make our sessions more productive earlier into therapy?"

Gin smiled at the assorted things he wanted to say, but only chose one. "Ya might want to ask her about recent men in her life that have betrayed her. Might get ya further along in therapizing her."

"Ah, yes, a starting point." Frasier looked through the other files as they took a corner in the hall. "I must say, this place is enormous. I was lost for two hours this morning – I believe it was morning, can't say with any certainty – before that child Wonderweiss pointed me in the right direction."

"Yeah, the kid's got some issues, too."

"Did you have any sessions with Wonderweiss — what did you say your name was again?"

"Never had much to do with Wonderweiss," Gin said, shrugging. "Too simple to really talk to. Ya might get somethin' interestin' from him. Doubt it, though."

Frasier nodded, glancing at his list. "Now, we I have a Starrk –"

"Won't stay awake, Doc."

"Hmm, I've had sleepers before," Frasier said with a nod. "Grimmjow Jag —"

"Pure aggression," Gin said. "But he's interested in a fair fight more than the rest."

"Hmm, that's fascinating, given the _battles_ waged here. Szayel Apollo Granz —"

"Mean and pure ego. Don't turn yer back on him, Doc. Not unless ya want to be under the microscope."

Frasier made a check with a pen next to Szayel's name. "I see. Thank you for that information. Hmm, Ulquiorra Schiffer."

"Eh, a real sourpuss. Comes off as aloof, but he's got a few emotions trying to surface." Gin chuckled. "Too much time with the girl."

"Oh?" Frasier gleaned what he hoped to be a tidbit into one of his patient's psyches. "Women troubles, too? Hmm. Perhaps we can bring that to the forefront. What do you know of Barragon?"

"Bo-ring."

Frasier sighed. "Well, we can't all have the liveliest of personalities. Let's see – oh, Nnoitra. I think that's how one would pronounce it."

"Real sadistic bastard." Gin took them around another corner of the hall. Ahead he could hear low mumblings. He recognized one. "Sneaky, too. Ain't been the same since he got rid of Nel. Watches his back. So would I, if she was coming after me."

"Oh? Now Nel, perhaps I should have a joint session with her and Nnoitra, just to round out my observation." Frasier wrote a note beside Nnoitra's name on the list. "This Nel, is she here now? Do you think she'd be receptive to couples therapy?"

Gin shook his head, laughing. "Nope, and nope."

"Well, I'll see how things go first with Mr. Nnoitra and take matters from there."

Gin made a sudden swerve into another hall and Frasier paused, looking to him. "Are we at your juncture?"

"Yep, ya can say that." Gin nodded down the hall where two low voices were growing louder. "Tread lightly, Doc."

Frasier smiled and adopted his best acceptance speech tone. "Well, thank you for those insights – uh, colleague, I presume. What is your title here, again? I didn't catch your name, friend."

"Yeah, that'll do," Gin said, turning down the adjoining hall to find Luppi. "Watch yer step."

Frasier sighed and watched Gin disappear around the next corner of halls. He straightened his Las Noches coat over his suit that Aizen had given him. The gray color met with his satisfaction, and it coordinated with most of the suits he'd brought.

Ahead of him down the main corridor the murmuring voices rose, and a flash of brilliant light sparked.

"Aizen-san will have to recalibrate my ranking," Nnoitra's voice echoed down the hall with a sly chuckle.

Frasier stood motionless.

"Doubt that," came Starrk's lazy response. "You aren't going anywhere, Five."

Frasier turned on his heel and walked back the way he'd come. Maybe he could wait until his sessions officially began to get to know more about his patients.

* * *

**Take the Poll: Who Needs Therapy the Most?**


End file.
